Felinius nods. “Ai. Impressive, sai. How long were you there?”
“Three years,” lies Milton. It was closer to two. “I outlasted eight hundred recruits.” He says proudly.
“But you din’t survive the final cut,” sneers Anther.
“No, but not many men have. Their standards for recruitment are impossibly high. Set watch and warrant, you men know this well.”
Felinius pats him on the shoulder reassuringly. He looks disapprovingly at Anther. “Ai. Their standards are high beyond measure. Not one of us could have made the cut. Any man from the King’s Guard is one to be reckoned with. I have met men of your mettle and know this to be true.”
Milton nods. “Ai. Gratitude Sai. A post I am proud to be a part of beyond measure.”
“We will permit you to leave the game, as you see fit. In fact, I should be leaving myself, so I shall.”
Milton nods. “Ai. Let us walk out together. I could use the palaver on such a long journey.”
Milton and Felinius walk out of the tavern. Felinius turns to Milton. “Your cards skills are impressive.”
“Gratitude.”
“How long are you in town?” asks Felinius.
“I must leave in the morning at dawn.”
“Herod Antipaz, a man of considerable wealth, has entrusted me with a substantial pot. I told him I could increase his earnings two-fold if he wanted to risk the venture.” He looks at Milton, a beseeching gesture on his countenance. “It seems I may have exaggerated my skill set. Would you not permit me a chance to win back my losses? I’m due to go to a private party, an exclusive invite only. The men there are of a substantial purse. The entry fee is three hundred gold pence, which I could front you. It does appear the lady of the lake is with you, so it could be a once in a lifetime opportunity. What say you, Sai?”
For a split second, Milton’s eyes dilate to twice their size at the thought of walking away with a pot that is perhaps several hundred thousand pence, more than enough to pay off his debts. He would have enough left over to support his lifestyle he had grown accustomed to, the pervasive and suffocating stress of mounting debt gone forever.
On the other hand, he could lose everything, and his circumstances would worsen. Milton ponders on the repercussions that would surely ensue should he lose. The logical part of his mind cries out to take his earnings and walk. It would be the most prudent course of action.
But the emotional and psychological part of his mind has been dominating his choices for years and they yearn for the excitement of the tables and the possibilities of riches beyond measure. He could no more walk away from this game than he could walk away from the beautiful Constance if she threw herself at him.
Indecisive, Milton stalls. “Would you permit me to think on it a bit?”
Felinius shakes his head. “I have no time, Sai. I must be going. The game is on the other end of town proper and they are strict about punctuality. If one is late to the game that person forfeits their space at the table. I’m not sure they would even permit me to have you join their game. It is only a possibility. But I must leave now. If you wish to come, you must accompany me at tempest halt.”
Like waving meat in front of a starving dog, the temptation is simply too much. And so, Milton nods his head vigorously. “Ai. Let us hope we can get in on the game. I am there.”
When they reach their destination at a seedy, dark and ominous tavern downstairs, none of the men are intimidated by the formidable looking Milton.
His friendly and courteous nods are met with icy stares and indignant smirks. Only a couple of gents even return the nod.
Felinius puts a hand on his lapel, hoping to assuage him. “It is no disrespect they mean, Sai. Merely their way. These men are mercs and it is the way they are accustomed to dealing with strangers. Show them respect but do not expect them to reciprocate.”
Milton shrugs. “No offense taken. I am on strangers’ turf. And this is business.”
“Then let us begin, shall we?”
Felinius introduces Milton to the men at the table and is amicable enough, but when he begins the game of spades, he becomes adamant, fiercely determined and even a bit reckless. The telltale signs in his demeanor hinting at his hand were now gone. His quirks and subtle cues are no longer apparent. He is inscrutable. Milton knows when he is being played.
A part of him urges him to cut his losses now and exit the game. He could walk away still with a hefty profit. The initial ante is quite large but expected as this is a high roller game. When the second hand is won by Felinius, Milton gets up. “Well, gentleman, I cry pardon, but I have an early morn. I must be heading off.”
The others look at him with menace and fury in their eyes as if he had just slapped them and insulted their children. Felinius turns to him sharply, with reprimanding eyes. “Sit down, Sai. This is a private game you have asked to join, and these men have permitted you to sit here. You must abide by the rules of the house.”
Milton turns to Felinius, suddenly finding it nearly impossible to swallow. “And what rules are those, Sai?” He asks.
“The rules of the house dictate that you must play twenty rounds at the least.”
“You did not think to explain this to me before the game began?” He asks indignantly.
“I did not have time to explain the intricacies of the game. You are a high roller and tonight you have the Lady of the Lake at your behest. I did not think it mattered. These are the rules of the house. Sit down.” He says emphatically.
“Sit down Captain!” cries Gulliver, a Byzantine Merc with a reputation for having a capricious trigger finger.
“Sit down!” cries Grouse, a Visi-Gaulian pirate and Herod’s hired man.
Milton reluctantly sits down, the truth dawning in his mind like a macabre painting that has come into full focus. He is being played and there is little he can do. The sweat breaks out on his forehead and he wipes it away and focuses on the hand. His heart trip-hammers in his chest. His breathing becomes raspy as if he has suddenly exerted himself.
He observes Felinius and the way in which he plays his cards. Dexterous hands shuffle the cards with the speed of an accomplished magician. He looks at the guns on his holster and notes they are thirty caliber twelve round slugs, favored by gunfighters and knights alike. He has no doubt that he could use them with deadly and accurate force.
Milton has no choice but to keep playing. On the next five rounds, he folds on three hands, plays two other hands, having a decent hand but folds after the pot becomes too much. On the seventh round, he is nearly bankrupt. He has enough to repay his entry fee to Felinius and perhaps another 20 gold pence.
On the eighth round, he dips into his entry fee he is due to pay Felinius, praying that he can make it up on the next few rounds.
On the tenth round, he is forced to borrow more gold pence to stay in the game. Felinius reluctantly agrees. “You do have the means to make good on this debt should the worst happen?” asks Felinius.
Milton lies. “Ai. Set watch and warrant it.”
On the thirteenth round, Milton finally gets lucky. He has a straight back, a nearly unbeatable hand. So far, the highest hand in the game had been a straight back, the royal straight back having never made its way into their game. Milton quickly determines the odds of having another hand that could trump the straight back and knows that the odds are ridiculously high; though it is difficult to surmise as they are playing with a four deckhand. Milton goes forward and bets everything he has on this round.
The pot grows substantially, and Milton becomes hopeful. If he wins this pot, he can most likely walk away from this game with a substantial gain, regardless of what happens in the next few rounds. The pot swells to 1,500 gold pence. For seventy pence, Milton asks for a show. He reveals his cards, a straight back and grins.
Felinius expression remains deadpan. He lays his cards on the table. A royal straight back flush stares Milton in the face, the cards seeming to mock him and laugh out. He rubs his
temples, trying in vain to stifle the throbbing pain that explodes through his head like a sledgehammer.
He buries his face in his hands and mumbles incoherently. “Goddammit. The odds. Christ how? How?”
Felinius puts his hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to comfort. Or perhaps it is to mock and add insult to injury. His words make it clear which it is. “Well, Milton it appears that Lady Luck has abandoned you.”
The other men laugh sardonically. By the seventeenth round, he is forced yet again to borrow from the house. He is now in debt to the house over five hundred gold pence, a substantial amount he is unable to make good on.
Perhaps he can go to Menelaeus and beg him to intercede. He will probably be disgraced and demoted-but what choice does he have?
By the twentieth round, Milton has lost the entrance fee to the game as well as nine hundred gold pence, a substantial sum, even for him, being the highest paid soldier of the King’s Guard.
Milton gets up. “Well, the hour is late, and it appears I must be taking my leave, so I must.”
Felinius nods. “You have played your twenty rounds and your obligation to the game completed.”
“Just make sure you pay the house its due before you take leave. We cry pardon if we have left you short, so we have,” says Grouse mockingly. The others laugh.
Milton nods. He turns to Felinius- now, his only hope of walking out of the tavern intact.
“Pardon me Sai. May I have a word?” He asks, trying to muster as little emotion as he can in his voice, though it breaks, nonetheless.
Felinius looks at him and turns to the other card players. “Gentlemen, would you permit me to take a break and palaver with Sai?”
The men shrug. “Ai,” says Percy.
“Ai,” say the other men.
“We could use a break, so we could,” says Gulliver.
“What is it?” asks Felinius. “If you do not possess the coin to settle the debts here, I could, given your position, vouch for you, provided of course that you settle debts before you take your leave in the morn.”
“I would say thankee for the opportunity Sai. But I must confess that I am in a predicament. Seems that I have over-extended myself. I do not have the proper coin to withdraw from the game,” says Milton, hoping that Felinius can find a solution.
“I would say that is some predicament, Sai. These are hard men who expect to be paid their account at tempest halt. Grouse will not welcome this news.”
“Grouse is the owner of this tavern?” asks Milton uncomfortably.
“Ai.”
“Is there not a solution that we can come to? As men of honor?”
Felinius appears to ponder the matter deeply. “As you know well, the coin and influence of Herod Antipaz goes far, even in these parts. Should I mention that I can vouch for you on behalf of Herod Antipaz, I would ken that I could hold off Grouse for a week, maybe more.”
“I would be eternally grateful for the favor,” says Milton, feeling the pain in his temples begin to diminish and the blood rush back into his face.
“Would you agree to meet with him? Tell me, where does your business take you? Anywhere near the town of Roy? Herod makes his domicile in Ruth and will be doing business in Roy next week,” says Felinius, as if he does not know that Milton will be in the town of Roy.
Milton nods his head vigorously. “I will be in the town of Roy next week on a Wednesday.”
“Would you agree to meet Herod Antipaz to reconcile your substantial debt? Herod is a businessman and a solution may easily present itself to him on your behalf. You ken?”
“Ai. Set watch and warrant, I will be there.”
“See that you do, Captain. Herod Antipaz is a busy man and he will allocate his precious time for you. If you do not show, there will be much you will forfeit. He is not one to forgive a debt. You ken?”
“Ai,” says Milton. “I’d do anything to have this matter resolved.”
Felinius extends his hand and Milton graciously accepts it. Milton exits and Felinius returns to the card game.
Chapter 16: An Indecent Proposal
Milton tethers his horse and walks up to the opulent Botswain Hotel, the most ostentatious hotel in the land, playground for wealthy merchants and Councilmen with ample coin. Completely out of reach for ordinary citizens, even Milton, the hotel is fifty gold pence a night, a ridiculous sum, but rife with all the amenities one could ever want.
Flaunting his wealth arrogantly, Herod has taken his stay on the entire fourth floor. It is no more to him than tipping a stable boy a half pence would be to Milton. He walks into the lobby, observing the breathtaking frescoes that festoon the grand ballroom, paintings of oiled and muscular gladiators in the heat of battle.
Other frescoes depict the birth of this world from genesis and the angels that hover over the divine scene. Marble columns alabaster white are so heavily polished that appear to give off their own shimmer. Hardwood oak veneer floors seem to glide the guests effortlessly across the floor.
Milton is impressed. He steps into the elevator and looks to the bellhop. “What floor, Sai?”
“The fourth,” replies Milton.
Milton had only been in one elevator and it was a little disconcerting. The opaque walls inside somehow make it less claustrophobic. The elevator gears churn and creak and the elevator moves up, noisily.
The bellhop does not share any of Milton’s misgivings. He looks straight ahead, and his face remains impassively deadpan. When he reaches the fourth, the bellhop calls out. “Fourth floor, Sai.” He looks at Milton, as if expecting a tip. Milton reaches into his pocket, extracting a nickel pence and flips it to him.
“Thankee Sai,” says the bellhop enthusiastically, unaccustomed to the generosity. Milton is a stickler for etiquette and is unconcerned of such a paltry amount. His problems are heavy sums of money. He walks out onto the fourth floor. The floor is marble, hard and immaculately polished. Felinius is present to greet him.
“Good day.” He says courteously.
“Good day,” replies Milton.
“Herod-Sai will meet you now.” Felinius ushers him through two large oak doors. An immaculate office stands before him. On the desk is a manuscript, an envelope and several writing utensils. A telegraph machine is also present. Herod walks through another door at the back of the room, ostensibly finishing up some business.
He looks at Felinius. “Thankee Felinius. You may leave us.” He looks at Milton. “Good day Sai.” He extends his hand and Milton eagerly shakes it.
“We are well met,” says Herod.
Milton nods. “Ai. Glad to make acquaintance. Have heard much of you. Your reputation exceeds presence.”
“Gratitude, as does yours.” Herod looks at Milton sternly. “But pleasantries aside, we have a situation. Do we not?”
“One I would be happy to resolve,” says Milton. “Name a solution and if it is agreeable, we shall proceed at tempest halt.”
“But even if we resolve this situation, your predicament extends beyond, does it not?” asks Herod matter of fact.
“Ai. A matter which vexes me beyond reason.”
Herod smiles impishly. “Perhaps I have a solution that will resolve all your problems. Past and present.”
“Speak it,” says Milton.
“You have one of the most important posts in the Empire, do you not, Captain?”
“Ai. That I do, Herod-Sai. It is a post that must be conducted with the utmost secrecy based on its importance. There is much at stake and much to lose. But I know you are a man of great power and with that power comes great knowledge. As you must already know, I transport the King’s gold from the Baltic Mines.”
Milton is uncomfortable admitting such sensitive information but presumes that Herod already knows.
Herod nods his head matter of fact as if this information were no more important than the sky being blue. “Ai. Know full well, so I do. Such an important and sensitive post. Imagine if that information ever fell into the wrong ha
nds, what would happen to all that gold?” He asks mockingly.
He continues. “Surely if that information fell into the wrong hands, you would never be implicated. After all, a man of your position is above reproach. Is he not?” Herod laughs sardonically.
“Are you fencing with me, Herod-Sai? You have something you wish to ask me, then ask it? I don’t have time for pube play. You ken?”
“You know the route where the next shipment will be taken. In exchange for me relieving you of your woeful financial troubles and generous finder’s fee of two thousand gold pence, you will tell me when and where, how many there are guarding it, what sort of weaponry they have, their skill level and experience in combat and any other pertinent details.”
Milton looks at Herod as if he had slapped him. He points a finger at Herod, holding it accusingly only a few inches from his face. “You are a vile snake! No more fit for public duty than a snake would be for the throne. What you are asking me to do is treason. In fact, it is high treason! I came here because I assumed you a man of honor, but I see now I was wrong.” Milton rises abruptly. “Good day to you, you poisonous wretch!”
Milton gets to the door and opens it. As he does, two large armed men block his path. They wear a threatening look on their faces, as if at any moment, they will reach into their holsters and draw their shooters. “Sit down Milton! I have not excused you yet. We have unfinished business. Now sit!”
Milton reluctantly turns around and sits and glares at Herod like a sulking child, knowing he is vulnerable. Herod extracts several photographs. The quality of the photos is amateurish and look as if the person taking them did so in a hurry. They are grainy and unfocused.
But it is not the quality of the photos that causes Milton’s heart to trip-hammer in his chest. His throat constricts substantially, making it hard for him to breathe and sweat breaks out on his forehead. His heart seems to have bounced up in his throat. He gags reflexively and a small, almost inaudible whistle escapes from his lips.
Inconsolable rage and fear envelope him in their grip and he is powerless to stop it. The images are poor but unmistakable. His wife Peoria and his son, Brute and daughter Lily are present in the photos. In one photo, they are clearly seen in the veranda deck, where the lush gardens festoon the grounds. In one of the photos, his children are seen together, and his wife is seen in another.
The Test of Ostra Page 11
